


Rely on me

by evil_ontheinside



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I guess? I'm not sure, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27048124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evil_ontheinside/pseuds/evil_ontheinside
Summary: When his feet hit the floor, it’s not like the times before. A loud crack echoes through the gym as Rintarou’s ankle twists and he tumbles to the floor.Day seven of SunaOsaWeek - Prompt: Bestfriend/Husband
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 12
Kudos: 200
Collections: SunaOsa, SunaOsa Week 2020





	Rely on me

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last one! I really had a lot of fun writing all this so I hope you had fun reading it too :)  
> English medical terms are so complicated but I hope I used them at least somewhat correctly because I really don't know at this point.
> 
> As always, should you find any big mistakes please tell me :)
> 
> You can talk to me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/EOntheinside?s=08) if you want
> 
> **Best friend/Husband** ; ~~Home; Halloween~~
> 
> Background Ships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Akagi Michinari/Kita Shinsuke  
> Background Characters: Komori Motoya, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Inarizaki Volleyball Club

A normal day at practice. They play 3 vs 3 after their coach stepped out for a few minutes to answer an important call. Motoya is behind him, receives every serve and saves most of the blocked balls falling on their side of the net. They always worked well together, one reason their team together with Kowa-san, their captain, kept winning against the others.

Rintarou is forced to receive the strong jump serve Tatsuki sends over the net. The ball flies off to the side where Motoya manages to send it in Kowa’s direction who spikes the ball to the other side. Only a few seconds later he positions himself in front of the net, follows the other players with his eyes until he jumps to block Tatsuki, feels the ball hit his arms, hears it slam on the ground. He smirks at the other middle blocker when he lands back on the ground and earns a competitive smile in return.

Kowa serves next, his jump floater only barely received by Blom-san, who insisted on being called by his first name Ruben even though he just started playing for them half a year ago after moving to Japan from Sweden. Fierro, who would return to Spain the next season to live closer to his family after spending five years in Japan, sets shakily to Tatsuki. Suna stands in front of the net. He jumps in front of Tatsuki, the ball hits his arms. A repetitive motion, nothing he never did before. He does it every day, jumping, blocking, spiking, receiving.

When his feet hit the floor, it’s not like the times before. A loud crack echoes through the gym as Rintarou’s ankle twists and he tumbles to the floor. He clenches his teeth and balls his hands into fists as he fights the temptation to shout curses loud enough to be heard outside.

He feels his hands shake as his mind goes blank, only ‘shit’ echoing through his head over and over again. His ankle is hot, the sensation of something snapping still a fresh memory.

He snaps out of his panic as a hand rests on his shoulder and Motoya’s face slides into his field of view. “Ankle, right? Think you can stand?” He wants to nod just to prove to himself that this isn’t as bad as it feels but lying to himself wouldn’t do much in this situation anyway. This isn’t about feelings he can brush off as a stomach ache, this is an injury. Nothing he can lie about so it goes away. Well, feelings don’t just vanish either but it’s way easier to ignore them.

“Don’t think so,” he presses out through gritted teeth as their coach rushes over after returning to the gym just a second ago. “What happened?” he demands immediately and though his words sound harsh there’s worry in his eyes. “Sounded like a torn ligament if you ask me. That sound is hard to forget.” Fierro says it like he has experience. Must be a distinctive sound. Rintarou is sure he will never forget it.

“Mauricio, get one of the medics.” Fierro nods and starts jogging, Rintarou can’t concentrate enough to actually know where. Probably to the medics. Good thought. “Motoya, I saw you coming with your car today. We need to get him to the hospital.” He feels like a child with everyone talking about him and not with him but he can’t get his mind to focus. He probably wouldn’t be able to supply anything useful anyway.

Only a few minutes later Fierro returns with Maki-san in tow, a first aid kit in hand. He had contact with her before after bruising a finger as it’s common with blocking. She smiles, calm as ever as she sits down beside Rintarou and examines the damage. He looks away when she carefully takes off his shoe and starts to palpate his ankle. Childish. That’s why he feels like a child, because he behaves like one. He flinches as she pushes down on the hot skin, the pain causes him to focus his eyes on his ankle. It’s already swelling and the skin has a bluish colour. A bruise doesn’t have to be something too bad, right? It could be something minor, Fierro could be wrong, he isn’t a medical professional after all.

Maki-san doesn’t ask if it hurts as she continues to feel around, his facial expression seems to be enough of an answer. Next she bends his knee and starts moving his ankle in different directions. It feels unstable and bends inwards more than it should. Shit.

“Komori-kun is taking you to the hospital, right?” Rintarou nods with gritted teeth while Maki-san sets his foot back to the ground. “I’m giving you an ice pack. Try to prop it up in the car. And don’t put weight onto it. I doubt you could anyway but don’t try it. Do you understand, Miya-kun?” He nods stiffly as Motoya and Blom-san help him off the ground.

With a lot of jumping they make it to Motoya’s car, Rintarou’s bag already on the backseat. They help him join his bag in the back of the car, Motoya even fastening his seatbelt despite his glare. He props his foot up on top of his bag, the ice pack in place.

Now that they drive and he had time to process everything he starts thinking again. Never a good idea. Is a torn ligament bad? Of course it’s not good but could there be something worse? A broken bone must be worse, right? When is it going to be healed? Is a month enough, in time so he can play in the next match? Would coach let him play after a month without training? Would he loose his starting position because of an injury?

Maybe it isn’t a torn ligament. Just some mild pain that will go away in a few hours without any consequences. Maybe he could walk home later, no need for Motoya to drive him around. He could go home for the team reunion planned at their house. What would they say when he comes in and can’t walk? Would they think he’s faking it? Maybe for attention?

Would Osamu start to be annoyed with him for relying on him so much? Maybe he shouldn’t go home. He could ask Motoya to spent the night and-

“I can basically hear you overthink, Rintarou. Nothing will change from thinking about it too much.” Motoya is right of course but Rintarou can’t help but sigh and lean his back against the door, thoughts still a mess, mind unable to calm down. “I can call Osamu as soon as we arrive-“

“No!” Motoya stills for a moment and shoots him a look through the rearview mirror. Rintarou knows that look. He’s going to ask questions and is going to talk him out of whatever holds him back. But not this time, this isn’t unreasonable. “Just- let’s not bother him with this.” Motoya frowns but looks back on the street in front of him. “If you say so.”

*-*-*-*-*

“Hope ya don’t mind if we call ya Kiyoomi now.” The man with the black curls shakes his head at Aran’s apologetic look. “It’s fine. With four Miya’s in one room it would get confusing.” Osamu places a tray with snacks on the coffee table before flopping down on the sofa next to his brother. “Speakin’ of Miya, where’s Miyarin?” He smiles as Hitoshi uses the nickname, still feeling warmth swell up inside him, even after four years.

“Raijin’s practicin’ today and Rin couldn’t bully his coach into givin’ him a day off.” He shoots a meaningful look at Atsumu who predictably starts to splutter, denying to have ever bullied anyone in his life. He turns his attention to Michinari, ignoring Atsumu’s slaps on his arm.

“We went to this gate with the huge square in front of it. The guide told us that it was a city gate back in the day with a forest for hunting nearby and Shin told me that the sculpture on top of the gate got taken after they lost a war or somethin’. I can’t imagine how ya could get it down from there though.” The former Libero talks excitedly about his trip through Europe while Shinsuke- it still feels weird to call him by his first name- sits next to him, smiling at the way his boyfriend tells the stories.

Osamu perks up when he hears the front door opening. He waits for the usual ‘I’m home’ Rin would say when he returns after practice but today nothing comes. He furrows his brows, eyes trained on the doorframe to their little hallway but his husband doesn’t appear. “Rin?” he asks while standing up and moving towards their front door. He feels Shinsuke’s eyes on him, it’s no surprise that their former captain picked up on his confusion. “Yer alright? There’s food left for ya, we already ate ‘cause yer trainin’ ran late today-” He walks around the corner and stops dead in his tracks.

Rin leans with his back against the front door, face covered with his hands, deep breaths in and out a bit shaky. A pair of crutches lean against him, his bag discarded on the floor in front of him. His right foot doesn’t touch the ground and is covered by a splint for the most part.

Worry wells up in Osamu. What happened? Was he treated already? Do they have to go to the hospital? Why didn’t he call him? How long will he take to recover? Does it hurt? He stops his thoughts, calms his nerves. They don’t need two people panicking, and Rintarou clearly claimed that state of mind already.

Osamu walks over and gently takes Rintarou’s hands in his, pulling them away from his face. His husband has a distressed look on his face, which isn’t surprising. “What happened?” He rubs his thumb over the back of Rintarou’s hands. The middle blocker takes another deep breath before wiggling his right leg a little. “Tore a ligament at practice.” He says it as if that were all, though it clearly isn’t. Only one of his questions has been answered but he knows that he sometimes has to push a little to get the answers he wants.

Osamu continues to look at him, not breaking eye contact, making Rintarou squirm a little until he continues. “Had an operation and can’t play for three to four months.” His voice sounds so small that Osamu just wants to kiss his worries away but there is still one thing he doesn’t understand.

“Why didn’t anyone call me? At least Motoya should’ve thought ‘bout that.” His voice sounds angrier than he wanted but hiding anger had never been his strong suit. Rintarou starts chewing on his lower lip, a nervous habit. He doesn’t say anything and averts eye contact. “Rin.” He presses his lips together, then sighs and slouches his shoulders.

“I told him not to call you.”

Those words trigger something in Osamu and he has to hold himself back not to shake his husband’s shoulders in rage and disbelieve. He let’s go of his hands to not accidentally squeeze them too hard. “Why would ya do that? I’m literally yer husband! Callin’ me should be the first thing yer thinkin’ ‘bout if somethin’ bad happens!” Rintarou winces at his harsh words but he is too worked up to care.

“I know you had a meeting for your new branch in Sapporo.” It’s true that Osamu had met with someone over lunch, confirming the last plans for the opening of his new restaurant in Hokkaido but he would never leave his husband alone when anything bad happens to him. Rintarou should know that. “So what? Ya know I would’ve come right away no matter what meetin’ I have!” He can’t stop himself anymore and grabs Rintarou’s arms, squeezing them tight, just to get a hold of his husband, to squeeze some sense into him.

“That’s why I didn’t want to call you.” Osamu lets out a frustrated groan. “Ya can’t decide if a meetin’ or the health o’ my fuckin’ husband ‘s more important ta me! If yer ever gettin’ injured again yer gonna fuckin’ call me!” Osamu can see someone lean against the doorway to the living room and turns his head to glare at Atsumu. His twin looks back at him, unimpressed as if telling him ‘sort this out when ya don’t have guests’.

“Sorry.” His head whips around to Rintarou again, just now noticing how different this fight is. Rintarou isn’t someone to start shouting or raise his voice but he’s not one to stay quiet either. He shares his thoughts in form of sharp remarks that sometimes cut deeper than any screaming would. But now his voice is small, he isn’t arguing, not even looking at him.

Rintarou tends to overthink. He’s always thinking, even about things not worth thinking about. Osamu can’t imagine what thoughts must have run through his head since he got injured. He must have been panicking for hours now, about volleyball, about not disturbing Osamu, about what to do if Osamu stopped loving him for this. Because it always came down to that question for Rintarou. Osamu had pressured him into sharing his thoughts often enough to know that.

He had tried to convince Rintarou that he wouldn’t stop loving him. That he wouldn’t just walk away because they weren’t on the same page or he was annoying by relying on him too much- which is just how Rintarou sees it and never bothers to ask Osamu if he actually thinks the same, which he doesn’t- but he couldn’t get it through the thick layer of worries in his husband’s head. And shouting at him probably just made it worse.

Osamu takes a deep breath. Then another. He loosens the grip on Rintarou’s arms and pulls him to his chest instead, hugging him as tight as he can, one hand on his back the other gently stroking through his hair. “I want ta be with ya if yer not doin’ well. Ya know that, right?” He sees Atsumu retreat to the living room as Rintarou nods at his shoulder, arms finally finding their way to Osamu’s back.

They stay like this for a few more minutes, Rintarou’s heartbeat slowing down again, his thoughts clearing. He can sense it in the way his shoulders relax and he rests more weight on him, less afraid to fall the longer Osamu holds him tight. “Hungry? ‘m sure we have some chuupets somewhere. Only after ya ate somethin’ else though.” Rintarou breathes out a laugh and nods. They make their way to the living room where the middle blocker gets questioned immediately while Osamu gets some food from the kitchen. When he comes back to a more relaxed looking Rin, probably distracted by Michinari’s stories he started to tell from the beginning again, relief and gratefulness washes over him. They know each other well, know when someone needs to be distracted or needs some sense talked into them. It’s a fifty percent chance with Rin every time.

He sits down next to his husband, hands him a plate with his favourite Onigiri while hiding the chuupet in his pocket and props his leg up on his own. He listens to Michinari’s story again though his attention is mostly on Rintarou, nibbling at the Onigiri while listening with interest. Maybe they should plan a trip to Europe. Or somewhere else. Whatever Rintarou would like to see.

“Not ta kill the mood or anythin’ but did ya already think ‘bout what yer gonna do after volleyball? Ya can’t keep playin’ forever.” Yuuta asks, mouth full of rice cracker, eyes darting between the professional athletes in the room. “Rin already decided, didn’t ya?” He grins wide as Rintarou shoots him a warning look. “Whatever you say ‘s probably bullshit.” Osamu just grins wider as he turns to Yuuta who’s looking intensely, eager to get something embarrassing on Rintarou, just like everyone else in the room. No one let’s an opportunity like this slide.

Osamu uses the chuupet in his pocket as distraction. He hands it over the same time he starts talking again, Rin’s focus on the snack. It’s cute how he can get to distracted by it.

“He’s gonna be Onigiri Miya’s eye candy.”

Most people in the room start grinning, Michinari turns to the side to hide his laugh, while Ren presses his lips together. Kiyoomi looks unbothered but Osamu notices the phone in his hands, without a doubt reporting to his cousin- they seem to have some kind of deal to transfer any teasing material about their teammates to each other.

It takes a second too long for Rintarou to process Osamu’s answer, his defence sounds unconvincing. “I never said that!” A few eyebrows get raised, a bit more laughter gets freed as Rintarou looks around with a frown.

“Ya said ‘I wouldn’t mind sitting around doing nothing for the rest of my life’. And yer a pleasant view if ya keep yer mouth shut. Sounds like eye candy to me. Ya can be served along with the food.” Rintarou shoots him a scandalized look at the impression of his accent before crossing his arms with a huff, face mostly neutral but his lips slightly pursed, betraying his annoyance. “I don’t care how you interpret my words, I never said that.” While everyone laughs at that, Rin’s face morphs into a smile again as he starts consuming his chuupet. People say Osamu is easily distracted with food, which is true but Rintarou is similar in that aspect if he senses his favourite snack nearby.

Kiyoomi answers the question next, stating that he would do something with his degree in linguistics, claiming that he didn’t go to university for nothing. Aran wants to bring joy to the young ones, teaching volleyball in schools or a club for younger kids. Heisuke is set on working with animals in any kind of form and everyone is reminded of how often he went to their towns shelter after volleyball practice. Atsumu hasn’t decided yet, says he still has enough time to find something he wants to do.

“You could work in a circus,” Rintarou suggests while gesturing with his snack. Atsumu looks confused, probably thinking ‘what did I say that he could think that?’. Osamu smirks. “Well, yer already a clown, aren’t ya?” He exchanges a mischievous look with his husband, while their former teammates start roaring with laughter except for a few exceptions and Atsumu looks close to dropping a bomb of insults but tries to not fall for it, knowing it would only get worse from there. Clowning Atsumu, now literally, had always been their specialty.

The evening moves on, filled with stories from all around japan and beyond. Next to him, Rin’s eyes start to drop every now and then and he has that look on his face indicating that he is ready to fall asleep on the spot. He must be tired after a day like this.

“Tired?” he asks quietly. Rin shrugs with one shoulder half-heartedly and rests his head on Osamu’s shoulder. “I take that as a yes,” he laughs and pats on the middle blocker’s thigh still resting on his legs. “Let’s get ya to bed then.” Rin shakes his head and hums in disagreement. “Have ta help you with cleaning.” Osamu moves one hand to Rin’s head and starts stroking through his hair. “Ya can’t carry stuff ‘round though.” Rintarou slings his arms around Osamu’s torso with a frustrated groan. “But I can keep ya company.” Osamu smiles fondly as he keeps hearing the dialect from his sleepy husband. “I can get ‘Tsumu ta help me. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Rin squeezes him tightly but doesn’t ague any further which Osamu takes as his sign. He peels himself free from his husband’s iron grip and stands up, the middle blockers leg carefully lowered onto the sofa. Without a warning he throws Rintarou over his shoulder much to his surprise as he yelps and holds onto the back of his shirt.

“If you want me to sleep than how about you don’t give me a heart attack!” Osamu just laughs and carries Rin to their bedroom. A few shouts of ‘good night’ and ‘sleep well’ follow them, Osamu carrying his husband like this is already a familiar sight. As he starts to help Rintarou out of his clothes he earns a pout from the other. “I can change by myself, you know?” Osamu only replies with a kiss on his husband’s forehead, before pulling the shirt over his head. Rin complains a bit more but in the end he lies in bed, foot propped up on a bunch of pillows, blanket pulled up to his chin. Osamu kisses his forehead one last time, Rin already murmuring in his sleep, before leaving the room.

“Now I only have ta get rid of everyone else.”

*-*-*-*-*

Osamu hears a clattering sound from their bedroom as he makes breakfast. For a second he wants to rush through their apartment but the omelet in front of him makes him change his mind. “Rin? You alright?” It’s quiet for a moment and Osamu is already settled on sacrificing their breakfast when he hears the distinctive sound of someone using crutches. A moment later, Rintarou hops in the kitchen.

“Morning.” His hair stands up in every direction, his usual bedhead. His eyes are small, still not fully open after just waking up. Osamu smiles at him over his shoulder while flipping the omelet. “Mornin’ Rinrin.” Rintarou scrunches up his nose and hops closer. He leans the crutches against the counter before draping his arms over Osamu’s shoulders. “Don’t do that.”

They stay like this long enough for Osamu to finish making breakfast for both of them. Just as he wants to tell his husband to move to their kitchen table he feels Rin’s hands hold on his shirt tightening. He suppresses a sigh at the clear sign of overthinking and turns around in the others hold. And yes, he is doing that thinking face again. Brows furrowed, lips pulled down, eyes glazed over, mind somewhere far away, lost in his head.

He cups Rintarou’s face with his hands before squishing it together. “Stop overthinking,” is what he says before Rin can open his mouth to probably ask him what’s wrong with him. Maybe he should have let him, he would have sounded funny. “Chamu.” Osamu moves his hands up and down, the skin under them following and distorting his husbands face. “No.” He continues on until the creases on Rin’s forehead disappear and his lips twitch into a smile, a huff of laughter at the end.

“Food first, thinkin’ later. And with thinkin’ I mean you talkin’ to me about what goes on in yer crazy head.” Rintarou huffs another laughter but follows Osamu to the kitchen table. The crutches get discarded on the floor while Rintarou enjoys his food. He always seems to light up when it’s Osamu’s cooking, another reason the chef likes to cook for his husband as often as possible.

They end up on the sofa after breakfast, arms around each other, Rin’s foot on top of a stack of books topped with a pillow, an ice pack around it. “Alright, let’s hear yer brain sprout some bullshit.” Rintarou stays quiet for a minute just playing with Osamu’s hand until he sighs. Osamu prepares for the worst.

“You weren’t with me when I woke up this morning.” The middle blockers grip on his hand gets tighter.

_‘I thought you were gone’_

_‘I thought I was too annoying, too much work.’_

_‘You deserve better than that’_

_‘Why do you even put up with me?’_

“I was before. I went to bed right after ‘Tsumu and Kiyoomi left. Wasn’t awake long before ya woke up too.” Rintarou loosens his grip again, he traces each of Osamu’s fingers, one after the other.

“I always rely on you so much.”

_‘You always do so much for me’_

_‘I never give back as much as you give’_

_‘Now I can do even less’_

“Do ya remember when I dislocated my shoulder in high school?” Rin’s movement stills for a moment before he nods and continues. “Then ya can’t say that I’m only doin’ stuff for you.”

They hadn’t been together back then, still in the weird state between best friends and ‘maybe we want something more’. It happened just after their early drop out of Spring Nationals in their second year, a few days before Rintarou’s birthday. He wasn’t allowed to move his shoulder and he hadn’t want to anyway, not after the terrifying experience of getting his shoulder reset.

Rintarou- still Sunarin back then- decided to help him. He carried his bag, copied his notes so Osamu could read them unlike the wonky characters he had produced with his left hand on his own paper. He gave him ice packs, talked to him during water breaks when the only thing Osamu could do was sit at the side lines as his teammates practiced.

He had asked Sunarin why he did all this. It was out of character. The middle blocker normally looked bored and without a care in the world, only laughed at the misfortune of others. Suddenly he went through all this trouble just to make Osamu’s life a little easier. Sent genuine smiles in his direction without the usual mischievous glint in his eyes, even helped him eat during their unusually undisturbed lunchbreaks.

‘That’s what best friends do, right?’

Maybe it was. But maybe this was the reason Osamu fell in love with Suna. Sunarin. Rintarou. Rin. Rinrin. Miyarin.

“I never said that.” His brows are furrowed again as he now traces the shape of his hand. From his wrist over the outline of every finger, resting in the spaces between them just for a second before reaching his wrist again.

“Ya didn’t have to.” He chews on his bottom lip before he admits: “I was thinking it.” Osamu moves his right hand from Rintarou’s arm to his hair, slowly brushing through the soft strands.

“Miyarin. Rintarou. Rin. Rinrin.” His mouth quirks up into a smile. “I don’t need ya to take care of me. Ya already did that. Plenty of times. I don’t mind if ya rely on me, on the contrary. I want ya to rely on me. That’s how ya show that ya trust me and that’s more than enough for me.” Rintarou’s eyes flick over his face as if searching for the lie in his words. For the insincerity in his eyes. He comes up empty.

“Why are you doing all this?” He cups Rin’s face with his hands and presses a firm kiss on his lips. He leans his forehead against Rintarou’s to look into his green eyes with the yellow sprinkles in them. He smiles, thumb moving in circles on his cheek.

“That’s what husbands do, right?”


End file.
